“Nothing, sir,” she says, but as she scurries away, a notebook falls out of her pocket.
I wouldn’t think anything of it, if she didn’t react with utter horror. She gasps when she sees it, picks it up, and shoves it back in her pocket.
“Give that here.”
She freezes, her hand on the notebook. “G-give what, sir?”
“Give me that fucking notebook.” I’m stalking over to her, ready to tear it out of her bloody hands.
She turns to me, “There’s nothing in it, sir, but my private diary.”
Lies. She’s lying.
I snap my fingers. “I said give it here.”
If she’s snooping, I want to know.
She shakes her head. “I-I can’t do that, sir.”
I look at her in surprise. No one on our staff questions us. Ever.
“If you don’t, I’ll fire you.”
Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head from side to side. “You can’t do that, Mr. Cowen. You can’t!”
“I fucking can and will. Now this is your last chance. Give it here.”
With trembling fingers, she hands it to me. I don’t have time to look through it yet.
“Stay right there,” I tell her, then I dial Islan.
“Yeah, Mac? What’s up?”
“Your guard with you?”
She blows out a breath. “Of fucking course,” she mutters. “Always. Why?”
“Send him down to me, and you join Paisley in her room tonight.”
There’s a pause before she answers. “Everything alright?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll tell you when I know.”
She’s quiet, then agrees. “Alright, then, will send him down straight away.” I hear her talking to him. “Mr. Cowen wants you downstairs. Mac. Says you’re needed and I’m to join Paisley.”
A moment later, her guard comes to join us. I gesture to Aisla. “This one’s under house arrest until further notice.”
“Mr. Cowen!”
Aisla looks abashed.
She’s hiding something, I fucking know it. She looks from me to him and then back at me. She takes a step toward me. “Sir, please, I promise, I would never do anything to betray the Cowen family.”
“I didn’t say you’d betrayed us.” Jesus, she’s definitely hiding something. I turn to go, when she lunges, grabbing at the notebook in my hand. She catches me by surprise and manages to get ahold of it, but my guard’s faster. He lifts her bodily up in the air, his arms wrapped round her like rope. She kicks her feet and fights, but he only shakes his head as he brings her back over to me.
I pluck the notebook right out of her hand.
“That was a mistake, lass,” I tell her, shaking my head. “There’s nothing you could’ve done that would’ve proven your guilt more.” I nod toward the study on the main floor, the room that used to be my father’s office before he grew too ill to go up and down the stairs. “Take her there. You’ll have everything you need.”
